


The Heart It Beats

by Unread



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Medication, goddamn forehead touching, there may be a joker reference because i can't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unread/pseuds/Unread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian gives a little laugh, a look of incredulous delight on his face. “Did you just propose to me, Mickey Milkovich?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart It Beats

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during the two week gap between episodes 5.05 and 5.06 after seeing that bed-sharing, forehead-touching picture. It is not canon compliant with what happens in later episodes.
> 
> Title from [this killer song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ffy3847W0A).

 

Mickey isn’t aware of how much time passes as they lay there together. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t really want to say anything, simply because he doesn’t want to break the fragile peace of this moment, to dredge up all the shit that’s happened. So neither of them speak, for a long time. Long enough that Mickey starts to feels almost calm, just basking in Ian’s warmth and letting Ian’s steady breaths somehow draw the tension from his muscles.

And then Ian finally says, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, there goes that almost-calm he was feeling. Now, it’s like Mickey’s been winded, like Ian just punched him. How the fuck can he do that with just a few words? Mickey manages to say, “Where the fuck else would I be?”

Ian’s brow creases into a frown — Mickey can feel it against his own forehead — but his eyes are closed tight. Mickey has no fucking idea what going on inside that screwed up head.

“After everything…everything I did. How can you…I don’t want you to get…” Ian makes a frustrated sound, like he can’t spit out the right words.

Mickey can kinda relate, but he barrels on anyway. “Hey, don’t think about that shit. You think you can get rid of me that easy? Nah man, fuck that. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

Ian smiles slowly, opens his eyes and stares at Mickey, their faces bare inches apart. He looks like a goofball, and he’s the best thing Mickey’s seen all day. All fucking week. “That’s pretty fucking romantic, for a Milkovich,” Ian says.

“I’m a romantic fucking guy,” Mickey says easily, and he knows he’s returning the goofy grin.

Ian smile lasts a moment longer, and then it’s gone. Mickey feels its loss like a cold breeze.

“I love you,” Ian says, but he says it like it hurts him.

“Fucking hell, Ian.” Mickey leans in and kisses his mouth, once, twice. He whispers into Ian’s lips, “I love you too, dipshit.”

And just like that, Ian’s smiling again. They’re just words, they’re not going to fix shit, but it almost feels like Mickey said something right, even if it’s only in that moment.

There’s bustle and voices coming from downstairs now, the scent of cooking wafting up the stairs. The light through the window tells him they’ve been lying here long enough for the sun to go down, and it’s a fucking miracle they haven’t been invaded by a Gallagher horde up here yet. Maybe Fiona’s keeping them at bay, giving them some time alone. Mickey can feel his body relaxing again, helped on by nosing into Ian’s neck and breathing him in. Ian lets out a heavy exhale, and Mickey runs his hand down Ian’s arm and laces their fingers together.

Which is when Ian’s stomach growls really loudly. They both laugh, but then Mickey brain catches up and he says, “When the hell did you last eat?”

Ian just lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I haven’t really been hungry.”

“Clearly you fucking are,” Mickey says. “Come on, let’s go downstairs and get some food.”

Mickey can feel Ian tense beside him. “I don’t think I can, Mick. Not yet.”

Mickey can’t look away from the pain he sees in Ian’s eyes, wants to be able to stop it more than anything in the world. He settles for just running his fingers through Ian’s hair. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to see your family’s ugly mugs, man, but they want to see you.”

Ian gives him a small smile. “They’re not ugly.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “You kidding? You’re the only good-looking Gallagher there is. The rest are trolls.”

Ian’s smile gets bigger, and he says, “You keep talking shit about my family, I’m gonna have to fight you.”

“Yeah? You think you can take me, tough guy?”

And then just like that, Ian’s on top of him, pressing Mickey’s wrists into the bed. They’re both grinning like idiots, and Mickey feels strangely victorious — it’s the most Ian’s moved in hours. “Oh, I can take you.” Ian leans down and kisses Mickey. “All night if I have to.”

“All talk and no walk,” Mickey says, reveling in the sight of Ian on top of him. Priorities, right. Don’t get distracted. “Come on, man. Food first. What about your meds? Have you taken them yet?”

Ian sags a bit, shoulders slumping. “Yeah,” he mumbles. He’s not looking at Mickey anymore.

“Hey.” Mickey cups Ian’s jaw, directs him gently to make eye contact. “Hey. I’ll be right next to you. I’ll always be right there.”

Ian’s eyes are wide and watery, but his mouth turns up a little at the corners. “I know you will.”

***

He leads Ian downstairs by the hand. Mickey doesn’t give a shit if anyone gives them hell for it, because he feels like he won a fucking victory. And Ian’s the trophy.

The Gallagher kitchen is packed. Mickey will admit to himself that he likes it, this room. It always feels like the beating heart of the house, like what a home should be like. The Milkovich house never had that warmth, at least not in Mickey’s memory.

Fiona’s zooming around the kitchen at top speed, setting out plates and cutlery and stirring pots on the stove. The table is pretty much full with every Gallagher under the sun, except Frank, thank fuck, as well as a bearded, clean-cut looking dude, and a pretty Asian girl sitting next to Lip.

Literally all of them turn to stare at Ian and Mickey.

“Hey guys!” Fiona says with an excessive amount of enthusiasm in her voice. “Dinner’s almost ready! Take a seat.”

Debbie shuffles down a seat so two are vacant beside each other. Mickey’s oddly pleased to see Ian kiss Liam’s forehead before sitting down. Fiona catches Mickey’s eye and gives him a grateful smile, which, like every Gallagher friendly overture, he has no idea what to do with. He just nods and takes the seat next to Ian.

Fiona dumps a giant bowl of mashed potatoes on the table beside one of green beans, and then sags down into a chair. “So, uh, Gus, this is my brother Ian and his boyfriend Mickey. Gus, um, well. He’s my husband?”

“No shit, you got married?” Ian’s faintly overwhelmed expression gives way to one of genuine interest. It makes something in Mickey relax. He starts piling their plates up with food.

Fiona seems conflicted about her situation, written all over her face when she looks at this Gus dude. She’s clearly trying to put a positive spin on it, though, smiling as she says, “Yeah, nearly a month now.”

“And she didn’t tell us for ages,” Debbie says, reaching to grab a pork chop from the platter. “We only just met him, like, last week.”

“Aren’t married people supposed to live together?” Carl says, gnawing on a chunk of meat like a dog.

“We’re still sorting that out. And use your knife and fork, Carl.” She gives Gus a smirk, points at Ian and Mickey, and says, “These two jokers are more married than we are.”

Lip snorts out a laugh. “Yeah Mickey, when are you gonna make an honest man out of our brother?”

“What the fuck, shut up man.” Mickey gives Lip his best ‘if you don’t shut your trap I’ll shut it for you’ look, but it’s not very effective.

“Yes! Then I can be a bridesmaid.” Debbie says. She sends Fiona a glare and says, “This time.”

Mickey stares at all of them in horror. They’ve all completely fucking lost it. That is the only explanation. “Have you all completely fucking lost it?” he says, because what else is there to say?

Fiona sighs, looks at Mickey, and then smiles sadly. “You guys are our new Kev and Vee, didn’t you know?”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Mickey says, baffled. The rest of the Gallaghers seem to know exactly what Fiona’s talking about though, and it’s freaking Mickey out.

So’s the fact that through all this talk, Ian hasn’t said a peep. But at least he’s eating — Mickey’s been keeping tabs on that in his periphery. Mickey’s not sure if he wants to know how Ian’s taking all this bullshit talk, because as unsettling as it all is, what’s fucking him up the most is the thought that it might freak Ian out.

“I’m already fucking married, remember?” Mickey says, feeling warmth in his cheeks at having a whole table of Gallaghers discussing his love life. “And isn’t gay marriage like, illegal or some shit?”

Debbie pipes up unhelpfully, “Gay marriage was legislated last year in Illinois.” Christ, did she swallow a fucking law degree or something?

“Svetlana’s probably eligible for a greencard by now,” Lip adds, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement at Mickey’s expense. “You could divorce her, you know.”

“Jesus fuck, since when are you pushing to become brother-in-law to a Milkovich?” Mickey says defensively. He can’t look at Ian just yet, which is weird because since he got back from hospital he’s barely been able to take his eyes off him. But right now Mickey isn’t ready to see whatever Ian’s face will tell him.

“You’d be our brother too?” Carl says. “Awesome. Can you teach me to shoot?”

“Damn, if I’da known, we could’ve had a double wedding.” Fiona’s grin is the definition of shit-eating.

The whole fucking _table_ is grinning at him, and Mickey doesn’t know if they’re kidding and just enjoying his discomfort, or genuinely into the idea. Fiona’s new dude Gus is the only one who seems remotely sane, simply because he just looks politely amused instead of demonically gleeful.

Mickey can see Ian shift closer to him in his periphery, and he finally braves looking at him to see how he’s taking this batshit crazy talk. He really, really doesn’t want this to drive Ian back upstairs to hide in his bed again.

But Ian’s grin is wider than all the others, because of _course_ it fucking is. He’s leaning in close to Mickey, and to his shock Mickey suddenly recognises _happiness_ in him. Like, the sane, un-drug-fueled kind of happy, from back before all the Russian whore shit hit the fan and they were basically just kids. The kind he hasn’t seen in a long time.

Mickey’s heart does a really unfair fucking thing in his chest, and leaps.

He swallows heavily, staring at the brightness that is Ian Gallagher. Looking at him somehow gives Mickey the strength — or the insanity — to speak. He can’t believe what he’s about to do, but he can’t stop himself, either.  “You wanna?” The words come out way too uncertain for his liking, and he thinks this might be what having a heart attack feels like.

Ian gives a little laugh, a look of incredulous delight on his face. “Did you just propose to me, Mickey Milkovich?”

“Do you fucking want to or not?” Patience has never been his strong suit, and neither has tact, especially when the potential for humiliation is high. Fuck them, he’s never proposed to anyone before, he can’t be expected to get it right first go.

But maybe he does get it right, because Ian doesn’t seem to care. He laughs again, and says, “Of course I fucking do.” And then he throws his arms around Mickey’s neck and kisses him firmly on the mouth to seal the deal.

The table literally erupts into noise, everyone clapping and catcalling and throwing food at them. Mickey’s never felt so warm in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> If this hasn't made you run for the hills, I am on [tumblr](http://lookslikeaquentinblakedrawing.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
